


Fuck You

by Tamoline



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/pseuds/Tamoline
Summary: Ariadne isn't going to let a little thing like walking, talking or traumatic damage stop her.And really, just, fuck you, world.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Fuck You

**Author's Note:**

> Submitted as part of the Parahuman Zine, downloadable from [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1VQ9T7PBrkVZ719EmiaXMA6pZgzgl1K9GTmOxsEXLgBY/)

_Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you_ , Ariadne muttered to herself as she laboriously trudged towards the building. A distance that she would have hardly noticed just a few short months ago — less than a hundred feet for God’s sake — now stretched out like a hundred miles. But she wasn’t going to let anything defeat her.

Certainly not her body.

A sensible person might have gotten dropped off closer than the car park. But that had seemed far too much like admitting defeat, something she was never going to do. Especially not over a piddling little thing like this.

It didn’t help that she couldn’t even walk alongside the path as she usually did, noisily crunching gravel underfoot. It might have been a bit of the child still within her, something a bit playful that she’d never let herself express in any other way. The noise, the sensation always helped clear her mind before the workday began and she bitterly resented that she couldn’t do it now. Or rather she could, but given the crutch she was still struggling to master, the loose stones seemed like a recipe for disaster. The last thing she needed was to make a fool of herself falling over in front of her workplace where everyone could see.

Crunching through the gravel was just one more thing that had been taken away from her.

By the time she was at the faintly iridescent walls of the building, sweat — actual huge drops of sweat — were rolling off her forehead, and she was actually gasping for breath. Recovery would take time, her physiotherapist had said. Her actual therapist too, for that matter.

 _Fuck you,_ she mouthed to their imagined faces as she slumped down on a bench outside the entrance. She clawed at the water bottle stuck in one pocket of her backpack and swore as her traitorous fingers let it slip to the ground and roll away. She thought briefly about abandoning it, just pretending it had nothing to do with her, but her mouth was already prickling with dryness and, well, it wasn’t as though she needed another problem for when she went inside. So she lowered herself down to the ground, wincing as her muscles betrayed her yet again and she bashed one knee against the concrete. Reaching over to the the fallen bottle, she carefully wrapped the fingers of one hand around it, refusing to let go.

 _Fuck you,_ she thought at it sternly, before pushing herself back onto the bench and finally, finally getting to take that rest.

As the water did its job, she slumped back against the wall and considered the skyline. What was it going to be like, now that she was probably never going to be out there again, fighting the good fight? Who was going to stop Chillwave from tearing off in the direction of the first sign of trouble? Who was going to help coax Trafalgar from her den the next time she started giving into her hermit tendencies? Who was actually going to manage the team, as opposed to just leading it?

A distant series of cracks jolted her out of her thoughts, adrenaline flooding her system like a kick to her head. Her mind immediately stumbled into analysis mode, trying to figure out who might have caused the noise and whether she needed to do something, but then a sharp spike of agony stabbed her in the brain.

_Ow, fuck, ow, fuck, ow, fuck me._

Gradually — far too slowly — the pain subsided, and she was left trembling in the aftermath. Well, if she’d needed a sign, some might have said that was it. As if all the others weren’t enough. _Fuck you,_ she told the headache and thought wistfully of the painkillers in her bag. But no. She’d lost enough already and she wasn’t going to lose anything more, even her pain. Besides, she wasn’t going to hand Ocelot any more ammunition. God knew he’d be able to sniff out even anything as innocuous as aspirin just by getting within five feet of her.

The good news was that by the time she able to think about getting up from the bench without feeling like her head would split open, she’d recovered enough of her breath that she wouldn’t look like a total mess. Just most of one. But her pride could survive that much.

Thankfully no one on reception questioned the woman hobbling across the lobby and into the elevator. Equally thankfully the elevator didn’t have a problem with matching her and her ID despite, well, everything. There was a part of her that couldn’t help hoping it was because she hadn’t changed that much really, though as a second place she’d take the system just being that smart. As opposed to the indignity of someone actually having to update her vital statistics so she wouldn’t have to get stuck here while security was called.

The doors opened, revealing the full majesty of the Protectorate floor. She really wasn’t surprised to find that in her absence, empty coffee cups had started to colonise every available surface. The half-completed matchstick replica of the Entelechy was a surprise, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. Snickersnack, propping her feet up on a chair as she leafed through a book, was at least comfortingly familiar. She looked up as Ariadne’s crutch clicked against the floor and Ariadne hated being able to count the three long seconds it took for recognition to cross Snick’s face.

Not that Snick hadn’t been a regular visitor, but apparently visiting a wreck in a hospital bed was different to seeing said wreck turn up in one’s workplace.

“Hey, Ariadne,” Snick said, getting to her feet and pasting a smile on her face. “Good to see you around.”

“Yes, well. I thought it was about time to get my stuff,” Ariadne said, hating how slurred her voice still was. She tried her best to give a smile back, all too aware of how it probably looked.

Ariadne could see the thoughts crawl across Snick’s face. About how she doubtless knew that Tangle had said that she could keep her office for as long as she wanted. Probably some platitudes about how she’d always be a part of the team. Maybe even about how they could still use her. But thankfully none of that made it past her mouth and instead she simply nodded. “Mind some company?”

Ariadne seriously thought about refusing, but it was Snick. If anyone wouldn’t tax her reserves of energy today it was her. She hated that she had to think of things that way now, but it was what it was. “Sure.”

There was a scuffle and a clatter of feet and Ocelot bounded into view. “Hi Arcana!” he practically yelled, a cheesy smirk on his face.

Ariadne could remember when she’d had patience for him, in the before times. Could even remember when she’d liked him, his shyness slowly being coaxed from him, to be unfortunately replaced by brashness. Now, though, he just seemed to bug the everliving shit out of her, regardless of how unfair that might irrationally be. Especially when he called her that.

“I’m not Arcana,” she practically growled. Not now. Not ever again, probably. And she hated how she couldn’t help adding that qualifier; like some part of her still hoped that she’d be able to see the weave of light as anything other than a mirage out of the corner of her eye or as flashes in some aching dream.

It didn’t help that all the specialists just kind of gave her a shrug. Even now, there was still so much unknown about powers.

Ocelot jumped back a bit at her tone, his smile fading a little. “Of course, of course. Ariadne,” he said, emphasising her name. “I’m just glad to see you up and about, even if you do seem to be a bit grumpy.”

“Fuck you,” she told him, completely out of patience for his shit. “Just, fuck you.” She took a breath, dragged the corners of her mouth up as far as she could. “Little Miss Sunshine is really not in right now.” She hobbled in the direction of her office as quickly as she could before she did something stupid like burst into tears. Slamming the door shut behind her — not an easy task, with her crutch — she took some time to just breath long and slow, focusing on the rhythm until random bursts of emotion stopped cycling within her.

The place was just as she’d left it, all those many weeks ago when she’d set out to deal with the alert. Fuck, there was even that half completed report still lying in her in-tray, as though it was waiting for her to complete it. “Sorry,” she told it. “I think you’re out of luck.” Even if she’d still been working for the Protectorate, she couldn’t trust her writing worth a damn at the moment. Certainly not to match the neat cursive that she’d always been so proud of.

 _Fuck it,_ she told herself. She’d just have to learn how to do it again.

She left the report there, half finished, forever orphaned, and started to collect what personal effects she still had. Some photos, of her, of friends, family. Even her ex. A watch that her mother had given her. A plush Arcana that had been a present from her niece.

There was soft tapping from the door. She twisted around and glared at the glass, ready and willing to curse Ocelot out if he’d decided to give it another try, but it was just Snick, looking hesitant.

“Hey,” she said. “That offer of company still open?”

Ariadne let the breath hiss from out of her mouth. “Sure. Can’t promise how pleasant I’m going to be, but feel free to suffer me regardless.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about Ocelot any time soon. He disappeared back in the direction of his rooms, tail between his legs.”

Ariadne made a face and quashed the worm of guilt that threatened to writhe in her gut. “Sorry I’m not in the mood to place peacemaker at the moment.”

“Oh, God, no. Don’t even think about apologising for that. If any feathers need to be unruffled, well…” Snick hesitated.

“Tangle can handle that for once. He is supposed to be team lead after all.” Snick made an exaggerated face to show what she thought of that and Ariadne couldn’t help laughing. “Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.”

“Any time,” Snick said wryly, then fell silent as Ariadne continued to shove things inside her backpack. Ariadne thought about asking her if she knew what those bangs had been earlier, then quashed the urge. It really wasn’t her business any more. Then she couldn’t help worrying if Snick was uncomfortable with the silence, as opposed to their usual easy chatter before.

Before. Always the full stop dividing then from now.

“Look,” Snick finally said. “I like to think that we’ve been friends, even if we’ve never really hung out outside of work.” She paused. _Here it comes,_ Ariadne thought with a twist in her stomach. “But given that’s going to be a little hard now… What would you say to changing that?”

_Oh._

Ariadne wanted to say no. Wanted to just cut the cord now, rather than waiting for the meet ups to happen less and less as Snick found other things to do with her time. Other priorities, like saving the city for example.

But, fuck it. Hadn’t her therapist been saying that she needed to start letting people in again? Snick was… Snick probably the easiest to even think about doing that with.

“Sure. Let’s meet up sometime.” She gave Snick her civilian phone number, storing Snick’s number under Diane.

“Thanks,” Snick said, giving her a bright smile. “Now all I’ve got to worry about is Ocelot finding out.”

“Let me guess. He’s already making noises about how you should ask me out, now that we’re not working together any more.”

Snick winced. “Was it you or me that gave him that excuse in the first place?”

“Probably me.” Ariadne felt less bad about snapping at him earlier. Why couldn’t the little fuck understand that queer women can like each other without actually wanting to jump each other’s bones? Better yet, why couldn’t he understand it was none of his goddamn business in the first place?

If there was one thing around this place that she had absolutely no patience for anymore, it was pointlessly making nice. And second place was the chatter that just didn’t seem to come easily any more. She couldn’t help wondering if she should feel more weirded out by that, whether it was just that she didn’t have the energy for that anymore, or if it was another symptom of the brain damage.

Fuck it. She could save the existential angst for later, or maybe her next therapy session.

“See you around?” she offered as she stuffed the last thing she was interested in taking with her — a snow globe the office Secret Santa had gotten her two years ago — into her bag.

“Sure,” Snick said, escorting her back to the elevator. Ariadne should probably feel grumpier that she felt the need to do that, but she couldn’t quite manage the outrage after she almost stumbled on the way out of the door. And thankfully Snick didn’t push her luck by offering to see her out of the building. The last thing Ariadne saw was a bright wave as the elevator doors closed, leaving Ariadne looking at her own face, the left hand side drooping and unresponsive.

Ariadne didn’t give it the victory of looking away. “Fuck you,” she told it.

She’d get better, learn how to cope better, even if her powers never did come back. And, hell, with the pension the Protectorate had given her, maybe she’d even get to go to college; make something of herself apart from the violence and groundwork of being a hero.

Maybe she’d learn how to draw strength from being around others again. Maybe she’d even manage to become that artist she’d dreamed about becoming way back when.

Maybe she wouldn’t let anything stop her.

And to fate, the universe at large, and whatever might have the temerity to think it could get in her way, she had only one thing to say.

“Fuck you.”


End file.
